SRMM's Excellent Adventure: Bird Suicide and Other Trip Highlights

Since my last post, we've traversed Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, and part of Virginia.  Here are some of the latest highlights of our trip.

Louisiana: The entire state smells like fresh-cut grass. Heavenly.

Lumberton, Miss..: Gas station bathrooms. Sometimes there is just not enough hand sanitizer in the world to make me feel comfortable. And yeah, I know that kids "need germs" to develop good immune systems. Over-use of antibacterial products like hand sanitizer is the root of all medical evils, and all that.  Whatever. I swabbed my kids from head-to-toe with the stuff after using this bathroom.

Pachuta, Miss.: A bird committed suicide by flying directly into my windshield as I was driving 75 miles an hour.  Seriously, the bird didn't see me coming?  It's not like I drive a Cooper Mini.  I drive a big ol' mom van.  Clearly, the bird did this on purpose.  Probably it just couldn't take any more summer vacation fun. Note to self: Running low on wiper fluid.

Meridian, Miss.: We stop at a Wendy's for lunch.  Other diners are disturbingly friendly.  I mean, I was getting used to the crazy friendly of Texas, but this is like mental institution friendly.  Also, because we have been Chick-fil-A addicts up until recent events, my kids had never been to a Wendy's.  The received microphones with their kids' meals.  Those play microphones that make a horribly loud echoing sound.  Four of them.  Now it is their favorite place.  I know what your imagining: the four of them singing into these things for the rest of the drive.  Oh no.  It's better.  They became television announcers.  Like they were Regis Philbin and Kelly Ripa calling the freaking Disney Christmas Parade.

"Our home viewers may not be able to see this, Regis, but it's starting to rain quite a bit here in Meridian, Mississippi."

"Yes, Kelly, you're quite right.  I also see that Mommy's knuckles are turning white."

Meridian, Miss. to Tuscaloosa, Ala.: Rain came at me like a wall of water.  I have never in my life driven in anything close to this.  I pulled over three times (Boligee, Eutaw, and Ralph, Alabama) because at a certain point the windshield wipers became irrelevant.  Twice I was able to pull off on to an exit and stop at a gas station.  Once I had to just pull over on the side of the highway and sit there shaking with my hazards on.

"Regis, it's really coming down.  I can't even read the signs on the side of the road."

"That's true, Kelly.  I have no idea where we are."

"I think we're still in Alabama, Regis."

"I think we're in Bikini Bottom, Kelly."

"It's raining so hard I can't see my next cue card, Regis."
(Regis and Kelly chortle.)

Bessemer, Ala.:  This hotel had no restaurant, so we walked over to a nearby Applebee's, where we were told there would be a 30-minute wait.  I'll be damned if I'm going to wait 30 minutes to eat at Applebee's, so we walked one greasy spoon to the left and ate at Cracker Barrel.  This was actually my first Cracker Barrel experience, and it wasn't too bad.  The only disappointment was that they don't serve beer at Cracker Barrel, and I could have really used the extra carbs with my meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, and fried okra.  The kids, of course, thought Cracker Barrel was haute cuisine and were overjoyed because I let them get candy at the gift shop for dessert. 

Buying the candy was particularly poorly thought out on my part.  Because we had gotten to the hotel later than planned (and because I was still shaken up from driving through a monsoon), I didn't take them swimming.  So then I had to put to bed four kids, who had been in the car all day, and were now hopped up on Pop Rocks.  Neat.

Ooltewah, Tenn.: We stopped to have lunch at a Burger King.  We were making great time, what with no monsoon making me stop every two exits, so I let the kids play in the play area for an hour.  This was the playland of my dreams.  Parents and grandparents alike were on their kids like glue.  There was no rough-housing, no climbing up slides, no shenanigans of any kind.  And certainly no feces in the tunnel.  These are my people. 

Morristown, Tenn.: This hotel had a restaurant, but a restaurant that can only be described as an Old People Restaurant.  However, most Old People Restaurants serve wine, usually in small glasses made in the 1940s when they must have been rationing things.  Anyway, this restaurant not serve alcohol.  The geezer at the table next to us had a pretty entertaining conniption fit over it, until his wife finally got him to settle down with some Sanka. 

I felt like I needed to eat a meal that did not involve french fries, so I ordered the "club salad."  It was the wrong choice.

Marion, Va.: We drove past a sign for Hungry Mother State Park.  I'm pretty sure that sometime around 1918, a bunch of park rangers got together and played a game of drunken Boggle to come up with the names of all the state parks across this great nation.  I have a friend who's a national park ranger; I bet he'll back me up on this.

Immediately after seeing the sign for Hungry Mother State Park.: I realized that, in fact, I was a hungry mother. We stopped at another Wendy's.  Since receiving the heinous microphones, the kids are gaga for Wendy's.  I begged the cashier not to give me any more microphones.  She gave us saxophones instead.  The promotional tie-in for these abuses, by the way, is America's Got Talent.  I'd like to see Howie Mandel sit in our van for 20 seconds with my kids spraying germs in the air through plastic saxophones.  Cover that on CNN, Piers Morgan.

Salem, Va.: We drove past one of the hotels we infected during the Great Swine Flu Adventure of 2009.  Sorry about that.  Again.

Harrisonburg, VA.:  Our last night in a hotel.  We're having fun but ready to take a break, eat a non-fast-food meal, and see our friends.  I can tell we're getting close: the last Wendy's was playing Pearl Jam instead of Carrie Underwood.